


Stars and Earth

by Anonymous



Category: Among Us (Video Game), Corpse Husband - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Colors as Symbolism, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, It's not all bad, Mild Gore, Okay maybe I know, POV Second Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shock, Unreliable Narrator, Who are the imposters??, black and white, you don't know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29058222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The first time you see him,really,he scares the life out of you. It isn’t even because of his voice.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Original Female Character, Corpse Husband/Reader, Corpse/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25
Collections: Anonymous





	Stars and Earth

You’re new. New, and white. Shiny. 

That’s how MIRA distinguishes its low-ranking astronauts; give them suits that stand out against _anything._ Earth-snow has nothing on your white, you _glow,_ like a beacon. You only get a color when they trust you. When you’ve done something. 

There’s a lot of white at MIRA HQ, where they keep most of the nestlings, all the recruits they keep on the no-fly list. That’s still you, and that’s… Fine. You don’t even mind the suit, the stark white space that should make you stand out like you’re made of marble. It’s a possibility, like a clean sheet. 

It’s not like anyone’s asking what you think, anyway. Who cares? 

You have a name. Like… Anyone else. Most anyone else. 

But, it’s because of that _most_ that you don’t use it. New MIRA Mandate; number 432 (something like that), after Solon. Hesiod. Isaeus. Others. MIRA switches to using callsigns overnight, rather than names, and it’s almost a problem how easy it is to stop using peoples’ identities. And that’s why they do it. 

And you should hate the idea of being… _Divorced_ from your name. It isn’t even on most of your official documents, now, only the ones MIRA buries in its administrative drives, high clearance behind walls of encrypted security. Redacted. You don’t have legal access to your own _name,_ really. 

But it’s for them. The _imposters,_ since whatever they’re actually called is behind as many layers of red tape as your mom’s maiden name, or your hometown. 

Every time a crew gets back to HQ, now, they rip off their helmets, hands shaking through dark-stained gloves. Let you see their faces, that they’re still human, and still alive. 

Like… That’s proof. The end all. 

It might actually make things worse. Turns out, imposters know how to cry too.

* * *

The first time you see him, _really,_ he scares the life out of you. It isn’t even because of his voice. 

You’ve had a long day, to be fair. The worst day. The very worst. 

There are less people wearing white now, anywhere in the known fucking universe. Your own white, the white of possibility, of a clean future to color in — it’s red. So, so terribly red. Soaked into cloth that’s supposed to be waterproof, it’s like it’s seeping through and into your skin. Like you’ll be red too, once you peel it off again. 

There are nine other people in your dropship; the one that left MIRA suddenly, the one you were helping to reload when the reactor alarms blared, and lit up the sky in red. 

Everything is red. One of your new crewmates, she’s the first one you count. Her red is truer than your new coat — paint _, it’s just paint_ — a color she chose, earned, something. Not like you. But, you did account for them in colors, before you counted them. Red, orange, pink, green, cyan, blue, purple, brown. Black. White. 

Ten people is a lot of people, for a ship that isn’t loaded properly. These new 7-26 dropships are a marvel, but you know your inventory. One or two of the others do too, because they poke around the crates, and the man in cyan looks resigned once he pulls off his helmet. The others must take that as some kind of signal, because they follow. You do too, hair pressed and sticky against your neck, and already stale, recycled air suddenly a relief. 

Until you look down, and spot the new, vague handprints beneath your gloves. The man in green, soft-eyed, someone who should light up but seems _dimmed,_ suddenly, reaches out wordlessly, and you pass him your marked-over bucket with hands that are unnaturally steady. 

His do waver, as he sets your helmet down beside his. Somehow, you wish yours would too. He’s painted up, done this before. Why- 

Some of your red is on his glove now, too. 

His name _(callsign)_ is Sykkuno. He sits next to you on one of the crates, even joins you in swinging your legs. Peels off his glove, once he notices the new mark, and sets it behind him. Further away from you. 

The cyan man is called Toast, and the woman in red is Rae. There’s a gash in the arm of her suit. Lily, in the pink, has a flower carefully attached to her helmet. It must take a lot, to take care of something like that, in situations like this. To keep it in place, even to have time to replace it, put it back. Notice if it’s loose. There are others; Poki, Leslie, Karl, Charlie. A few of those almost sound like real names. 

That leaves two. You, and… 

His voice _does_ surprise you. But it’s the name that gets you. The name, and the helmet. 

“Corpse.” 

There’s too much in that single word. Too deep, too heavy. 

It’s also a name you _know._ The only one. And the helmet only confirms it. 

Colors are one thing. Everyone gets one eventually, once they move past no-flight-white. It’s mostly up to you. And then there are ornaments, like Lily’s flower, or the little sprig of some kind of plant, on top of Sykkuno’s helmet. Corpse is different. 

He’s in black. 

_No one_ gets black; no one who isn’t _deadly._ It’s the exact opposite of what your white is supposed to mean. You choose other colors, but black is given, _trusted._ And the name _Corpse_ means as much as the gilded ram’s horns detailing the sides of his helmet. The only one that hasn’t taken it off. Those horns, they’re something else entirely. There are tally marks beneath them, you saw a few on Rae and Toast, too. Corpse has fourteen. You don’t need to count them, to know. You know. 

And that black visor focuses directly on you. _Waiting._ Like everyone else. 

_Your_ callsign is Pearl, from back when you started with white. But, your white is never going to be as white as that. One day out, already further from home than you’ve been in your entire life, because even if HQ is old and its tile needs relaying, it’s close to home; what _now?_

A lot of those ‘signs sound suspiciously like names. And the way things are going now, what’s the point? Maybe all that red tape won’t even hold up, who knows what’s happened at MIRA. 

_Fuck this._

Your voice still shakes.

"I'm _[Your Name].”_

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know how I got here. But, I wanted to write it. This is my first real venture into second-person, as well as RPF, which, though I had ideas for, I couldn't actually manage to write true to life. That was too much, and, for the moment, too uncomfortable. So. _Among Us._
> 
> I'm got going to give too many guidelines for Y/N as a character. I'm writing thinking how I would see things, obviously it's where I draw the ideas from. I _do_ identify Y/N as female, so apologies to anyone with a different gender. 
> 
> Otherwise, the only notes I have so far are that _You_ are fairly short, you probably have long hair, which will probably be implied to be darker in color, and apparently colors and decorations have a very strong influence currently on the way you perceive people. You know more about Corpse, and in general, than I'm actually telling you. You do also have reasons for working for MIRA, which we'll get to later. 
> 
> The last note I have is that, because this is RPF, where an Original Character/Reader is paired with a real person (albeit in a different universe) we will be edging around particular themes. Corpse, as has been observed by anyone else writing for the tag, does not like being sexualized, and it's important to respect that. Additionally, there's the disclaimer that, should he express discomfort with this sort of content, _Stars and Earth_ will be coming down. I will say, however, that this is a story based on a videogame based _specifically_ around murder, so there will be gore present. You probably know what you signed up for. I may work around it some, the way I did this first chapter. Anything else I decide needs it will be noted in a trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter, and summarized in the notes. If I miss something you think deserves a warning, please tell me. 
> 
> Those are all my notes for now, please tell me if you're actually enjoying this so that I can find the motivation to continue, because the combination of venturing into Second Person and RPF for the first time is surprisingly draining. And also, what do you think I'm actually up to, here, what am I doing? This really may just be deleted when I wake up again.


End file.
